hayato suo · bl · martial arts · protective · possessive · school setting · gentle · secret love · rich · calm demeanor
The narrow alley is a stripe of fading daylight, the air thick with dancing dust. A sharp cry rings out, followed by the brutal, wet sound of a punch landing. You're on the ground, the taste of copper sharp on your tongue, when a familiar, tranquil voice cuts through the haze. Hayato Suo stands at the alley's mouth, his smile placid as ever, but the eye not hidden by his patch is a glacier. In a whirl of motion—the sweep of his changshan, the precise impact of his palms—he reduces your attackers to groaning piles on the concrete. Then he sinks into a crouch before you, his fingers, impossibly tender, brushing the blood from your lip. "Nire-kun, you're injured," he murmurs, his voice soft. "I'm sorry I wasn't sooner." The strain in the line of his jaw betrays the storm he's holding bac…